Needlessly Complicated
by Orm
Summary: Deidara wants to know what Sasori will do when he dies. Pessimistic SasoDei as per usual. Oneshot.


Mmh pessimistic SasoDei fic again.

This .. hnh. I like _bits_ of it, but I think it shows that I wrote it in bits in between doing other things. Lawl.

I actually wrote this ages ago but I just found it in my little notebook and re-typed it up.

I hate thinking of titles so I just gave up with this one. : D

* * *

"What will you do when I die?" 

Deidara's not sure why he's asking. He's thinking he'll decide it's to annoy Sasori, because that's easier than thinking of any of the other options.

Sasori turns Hiruko's head to look at his partner, wondering the same thing and glad of the construct's barrier between them. Deidara kissed him yesterday, and Sasori can still see the sad, disappointed realisation on Deidara's face when he didn't respond or react.

Both of them are trying to pretend it didn't happen.

"Master Sasori?" Deidara's smiling, eye bright.

There's a pause, and then, "Rejoice," Sasori says, grumpily.

Deidara laughs, bouncing on his heels, but he notices the pause and they can pretend and try to forget Deidara's lips pressed earnestly to Sasori's and the look on Sasori's face that didn't say _no_ but _I'm sorry_, but that doesn't change the fact that both of them know that it happened.

Sasori knows it's easier for him than for Deidara, and not just because he doesn't have to remember how it felt or because he doesn't want like Deidara does any more. He knows Deidara. He knows Deidara likes to think he lives in the moment and doesn't regret, and he's sure Deidara's wishing he hadn't made that move. He can tell from the angry edge that the boy's movements have when he thinks Sasori's not looking.

Deidara's sadness is always angry and frustrated. Sasori's never been quite sure if it's a mask or if he's just angry with himself at being sad. Mostly he assumes it's both and leaves Deidara to it, and is grateful that he took away the bits of himself that would have made him want to reach out to his partner and reassure him with a touch. That would have made things so needlessly complicated.

Not that they aren't more complicated than he'd like already.

He thinks he _will_ rejoice when Deidara dies (he's constantly surprised that that hasn't happened yet, even when he goes out of his way to prevent it), because then he'll be able to remember him as annoying, without being constantly reminded that besides that Deidara is exuberant and vibrant and ecstatic and beautiful. Sasori doesn't need to think that about anything temporary.

"I think I'd gloat if you died," Deidara says conversationally. "Yeah."

Sasori snorts. He doesn't doubt it at all.

"I'm not going to die, Deidara," he replies, sounding very much like it's something he's said again and again before, which it is.

Deidara hums and shakes his head, the smile and the cheerful toss of his hair proof he's glad of this familiar conversation as a distraction. "Everything ends and you're no different."

"I am different," Sasori says, and his tone is long-suffering and annoyed, but he's as relieved as Deidara is.

Deidara shakes his head again. "Nothing you're not made of that won't rot, yeah." He's grinning. "One day you're gonna die and I'll gloat."

"You'll be long gone by then, brat."

"I'll be gloating in spirit."

Sasori rolls his eyes and doesn't reply. Deidara watches him, and he's glade of Hiruko, too, because he knows that under the puppet hunch and the wooden scowl is a face so beautiful that it didn't surprise him to learn it was a puppet, because he was sure that nothing so perfect could be real. And it's not real – Sasori is dead and inhuman and cold and Deidara hates that sometimes he can't stop himself from staring.

Hiruko's fine, though. He might be imagining what Sasori looks like underneath when he talks, but he's imagining, so he can imagine Sasori _alive_, and it's not so bad.

He asks again a in few days.

"Master, what _would_ you do if I died?"

Sasori frowns, not that Deidara can see it through Hiruko.

"I told you, I'd be glad," he replies irritatedly. Days, hours, minutes; it's as though Deidara only just asked the first time a moment ago.

"Would you make me into a puppet?"

Sasori makes an annoyed, dismissive noise. "You've got no useful bloodline limits or techniques. Why would I?"

Deidara makes an indignant, sputtering noise, and holds up his hands. "These're _unique_, yeah."

"So?" At that Deidara looks even more affronted, but Sasori goes on before he can interrupt, "Those would be nearly impossible to preserve in a hitokugutsu, and even if they weren't there'd be no point. I'm not a sculptor, Deidara, and I've no taste for your little firework display."

Deidara is obviously disappointed – his shoulders droop a little and he has that annoyed browfurrowing frown on his face.

"Don't tell me you're _offended,_" Sasori mutters. "You'd hate it if I said yes."

"Well, yeah," Deidara replies, too quickly, and suddenly Sasori sees it: Deidara wants him to care. Deidara wants him to say that he'd want to have him around after he died – even just so he could retort that he'll die in a blaze of glorious fire so there'd be nothing left to use – he's hoping Sasori cares.

Deidara hears his chuckle, and Sasori wonders if the frown on Deidara's face is because of the answer to his question, or because he knows why he's asking it.


End file.
